Forgiveness 101
by themetaphornextdoor
Summary: 'Atonement: The process of forgiving or pardoning a transgression or sin.' Dean thinks Cas should definitely apologize more often. Dean/Cas, NC-17, PWP. 648 words.


**Title:** Forgiveness 101

**Author:** isasminion (themetaphornextdoor)

**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel

**Genre:** PWP

**Rating:** NC-17

**Word Count:** 648

**Warnings:** Rimming, Mild Language

**Spoilers:** None

**Disclaimer:** Supernatural and it's characters belong to Eric Kripke & co. Not me.

**Summary:** Atonement:_ The process of forgiving or pardoning a transgression or sin._

**Author Notes:** I keep finding fic inspiration in religious terms. Guess I'm going to hell anyway, huh? And at least I'll have company, right guys? Right? Uh, guys?

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><p>...<p>

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><p>Cas slid down the wall with a grunt. Pants still around his ankles and chest heaving, he collapsed in Dean's lap, pressing painfully down on the erection Dean hadn't had a chance to take care of yet.<p>

He hadn't even unzipped his jeans.

"Dean," he panted. "Dean, I - sorry" the angel's head fell to Dean's shoulder as he came down from the high.

Dean was no better off for air, but for an entirely different reason.

"You know, Cas, I think you kinda skipped the fore and jumped straight into the play there man," he chuckled breathlessly. A lap-ful of post coital angel didn't help the oxygen situation.

Not to mention the very urgent press of his zipper.

Dean couldn't really blame him. His blow job skills were extraordinary, after all.

The fact that it was Cas' third blow job in a millennium of frustrated virginity, well, that was beside the point.

Cas lifted his head and seemed to register the situation. He blinked once, fisted his hands in Dean's shirt and hauled him up off the floor. In a move far too coordinated for someone who'd just come so hard he'd collapsed, he jerked Dean over to the bed and pushed him roughly into the mattress - where he found himself suddenly naked with a mouthful of pillow.

"Dean." The word always sounded like an entire sentence when Cas growled it. Dean supposed maybe it was, where angels were concerned.

When Cas' mouth bypassed everywhere he expected it and found a place between his cheeks, Dean decided angels should apologize more often.

Especially if it meant a talented tongue dragging over him in slow, languid strokes. Cas alternated shallow flicks around the tight ring of muscle with laving long, wet stripes from Dean's balls and all the way up to the base of his spine.

Dean squirmed. It was so _intimate_. And dammit but an angel had no right to be that good at rimming.

He tried not to buck, half aware it would be an _angel of the lord_'s face he'd be unceremoniously thrusting his ass into, but it was hard.

In so many more ways than one.

Cas slipped his hands beneath Dean's hips and pulled him to his knees, his face still down and buried in the pillow. A heavy hand flattened against his back, bowing him to give Cas better access, while the other hand held his cheeks apart.

You couldn't blame a guy for giving in to that.

The point of Cas' tongue caught on the rim repeatedly, licking deeper each time, hot and determined to wriggle inside as far as it could.

Every time he pulled away, Dean could feel Cas' breath ghosting along the wet skin. It sent shivers down his spine.

Cas, of course, noticed. Saw the goose bumps dotting his skin and felt the tremble in Dean's thighs. With a quiet hum, he dipped his head again and licked along the entire crack, getting it as wet as he could. A hint of stubble grazed against the sensitive skin as he moved. Then Cas pulled away and deliberately blew across it.

Dean nearly hit the roof. Already on the edge, the sudden cool air against his hot skin was more than enough to push him over. He came hard and fast, bucking into the air with a shout that might have come dangerously close to invoking a deity or two.

Collapsing back down on the bed with a shaky moan, Dean tried to remember what oxygen was. Maybe he could eventually reacquaint himself with gravity too, but there were no guarantees. Still twitching, he couldn't even find it in himself to care about the wet spot beneath his chest.

The bed dipped sharply as Cas thumped to the mattress beside him, limbs splayed out like a starfish.

That was definitely the kind of apology Dean could accept.

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><p><em>~end<em>


End file.
